


Band-aids and Bullet Holes

by transhanz0



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Basically every character - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Insomnia, Late night talks, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Who doesn't love them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transhanz0/pseuds/transhanz0
Summary: “McCree!” Hanzo shouted helplessly as he watched the cowboy get knocked out by the Talon agent. McCree slumped against the building, blood oozing from his neck wound at an alarming rate. The archer struggled against Reaper’s hold, but it was in vain.“Would you like to reconsider my offer, archer?”





	1. Prologue

Hanzo didn’t sleep.

 

Glimpses of the Shimada castle plagued his dreams, but the worst were the screams. The screams haunted Hanzo and made themselves the foundation of his nightmares every night. They followed him since the Day and continuously punished him whenever he rested. Sleeping became a struggle, a burden, a craving; he longed for a peaceful night, unhindered by the demons in his mind.

 

Hanzo didn’t sleep.

 

He stared up at the ceiling, his heart racing and body trembling. The coppery stench of blood, and the slow drip of the crimson liquid was forever ingrained in Hanzo’s mind. He turned to face the clock on the standard issued nightstand, the green neon digits blinked back at him, 4:15 AM.

 

Hanzo didn’t sleep. _Hanzo couldn't sleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is the shortest chapter ever, the next one will be longer I promise)
> 
> Welcome to a fic that I started awhile ago but never really did anything with  
> This fic will describe PTSD and probably have smut (cause why not), so if that ain't your thing, I would suggest looking for a different one.
> 
> Not sure when I'll update this, but I'll try to come up with a schedule. I'm thinking every Wednesday at 9pm EST, but no promises
> 
> I will update tags as needed cause I'm still in the process of writing
> 
> Give me your headcanons of McHanzo because this ship is my life  
> Tumblr - transhanz0


	2. Chapter 1

            The ceiling judged Hanzo’s inability to sleep, the muted grays reflected his somber thoughts. He deliberated whether to lie in bed or to exercise the fortuity of serene time by making food. As if prompted by a cue, Hanzo’s stomach began to rumble, which emphasized the fact he had neglected to eat dinner. Having given up on resting, Hanzo threw on a simple shirt and sweatpants from the edge of his bed. He wandered in the bathroom so he could inspect his hair’s current unkempt state in the mirror. In a few short minutes, Hanzo meticulously gathered his hair and made a messy bun with his favorite golden ribbon.

Hanzo slowly ambled his way down to the communal kitchen, mulling over his intrusive thoughts. At such a horrendous hour, Hanzo assumed he would be the only one awake, but the soft light spilling from the doorway opposed his theory. Stepping into the kitchen, the archer was greeted by the tired figure of Ana Amari, the resident medic sniper. If anyone else had been in the kitchen, Hanzo would have left, but Ana was like him — quiet and reserved. She does not make a habit of prying into a fellow agent’s business or asking unwanted questions; she waits patiently for one to approach her and ask for advice. He silently observed her gather the necessary tea ingredients, before clearing his throat, announcing his presence.

“Well hello there Hanzo,” Ana spoke softly as she turned the electric kettle on, then prepared two mugs, putting a spoonful of what smelled like jasmine tea in both, “What brings you here at this hour?”

“Numerous things.” Hanzo didn’t feel particularly inclined to disclose the cause for his insomnia at the current moment. His stomach grumbles at him again, and he spared a glare at it.

“I am going to make the assumption you do not wish to discuss it at the present moment.” Ana quietly chuckled at the unwelcome noise of his stomach, “Would you like some leftover fish and rice? It’s fresh salmon, truly delicious if I do say so myself.” Ana poured the hot water into the two mugs and let it steep, then she put a bowl in the microwave.

“Thank you for the offer Ms. Amari, it is much appreciated,” The aroma of the buttery salmon wafted towards Hanzo as he took the bowl out when the microwave beeped, “This looks exquisite.” The presentation of the food appeared like a high end restaurant and the soft pink salmon contrasted nicely from the white rice.

“You should be thanking McCree, he has developed quite the knack for cooking.” Ana took the tea strainers out and passed one mug over to Hanzo.

“Wait, McCree made this?” Hanzo blinked, not wrapping his mind around that the scruffy cowboy was capable of creating such delicious food. The salmon was cooked just right and as Hanzo bit down, the fish gently fell apart. It was heavenly.

“I think cooking helps him relax after a hard mission, gives his mind something to do.” Ana sipped her tea as she watched Hanzo continue to eat the food.

“You betcha, Ms. Amari,” The southern voice floated through the air, the cowboy materialized from the shadows. McCree wore his trademark serape, but traded his regular getup for a loose t-shirt and pajama pants with a cactus print.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot shorter than I wanted it to be, sorry about that
> 
> Currently I'm writing a paragraph about economics for a made up community...I know next to nothing about economics
> 
> not betaed, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know
> 
> check my twitter and tumblr for updates on BAaBH  
> handle for both is transhanz0


	3. Chapter 2

Hanzo stared. There was no polite way to put it. In the four months Hanzo had been stationed at the Watchpoint, not once had he seen Jesse McCree in anything other than his usual attire. He was not complaining however, the t-shirt was loose but fit the gunslinger’s upper body in all the right places. There was no denying McCree was an attractive man; he had many assets and knew how to utilize them in such a way that made the archer flush every time he entered the room. Hanzo himself had appreciated McCree’s physique from a far, however he denied himself any attention, or affection for that matter, from the vigilante. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer sweetheart.” McCree sent a wink and a grin towards the archer. Hanzo blushed and sipped his tea in an effort to break eye contact with the cowboy.

“Don't tease the poor boy, McCree.” Ana shook her head at the gunslinger’s attempts at woo Hanzo. “He has enough troubles of his own, he doesn’t need your poor excuse at flirting to add to the pile.” 

“What? I’m just calling it as I see it. He was looking at me when I walked in here.” McCree shrugged, “Say, do you have any tea left?”

“Afraid that was the last of it. I meant to buy more today but someone dropped a lot of paperwork on me.” Ana sent a glare in the general direction of Jack’s room. “I’ll make sure to put it on the list.” 

“Jasmine tea added to the shopping list” The disembodied voice of Athena, Overwatch’s AI, gently chimed.

“Thank ya darlin’,” McCree tipped his hat at Ana, “You’re too kind. I noticed someone enjoys my cooking. Glad to see ya like it. ” He sent a wink towards Hanzo, who flushed even deeper than before. McCree momentarily disappeared to the pantry and returned with a potato chip bag in hand. The bag was already opened, no doubt by McCree, and he happily reached in, grabbing a good handful of chips.

“Combined with your awful smoking habit, consuming potato chips isn’t going to make you any healthier, or younger for that matter.” Ana didn’t even glance in the gunslinger’s directions as she sipped some more of her tea, “ And you need more exercise.” She put the cup down and gave McCree a long hard stare. To Hanzo’s surprise, McCree looked guilty under Ana’s gaze.

“Sorry ma’am, but let a man have some vices. My life ain’t been all sunshine and rainbows.” McCree dove in for another handful of chips, crumbs fell off his sun kissed hand as he munched. Hanzo sympathises with him, the archer is a little too fond of alcohol to give it up. 

McCree’s comment shifted the atmosphere; each person quiet, reflecting on their past, their choices, their mistakes. Hanzo stole a glance at the gunslinger; McCree was staring into the bag, deep in thought.

“Well, I'm going to bed,” Ana abruptly stood up and placed her cup into the sink, “Hanzo, please get some rest. McCree, see to it that he actually does.” With that, she walked out of the kitchen, leaving McCree and Hanzo alone in the room. 

“Don’t even start anything cowboy.” Hanzo was not in the mood to deal the gunslinger’s voice this early in the morning, he just wanted to sleep. He took his bowl over to the sink, rinsed it and set it to dry. The archer then noticed there was still some sticky residue from the soy sauce was on his right hand. Hanzo started to absently rub his hands, trying to wash the sauce off. 

He stared at his hands, wet from the water and covered with a thin layer of soap. He blinked and it wasn’t soap on his hands, but blood. The crimson viscid liquid seemed to seep through his fingers into his cuticles, and he couldn’t wash it off. Hanzo continuously scrubbed his hands, breathe shortening as he couldn't get the blood off of his trembling hands. He grabbed the edge of the sink to steady his shaking body and stared into the basin, now filled with blood. His head spun from the combination of his intrusive thoughts and the lack of oxygen, then his vision began to fade as he struggled to breath. 

Hanzo was jolted out of his terror as a pair of hands gently wrapped around his arms and coaxed him away from the sink and the blood. He whipped around, dropping into a fighting stance, ready to defend himself from his attacker. Hanzo found McCree facing him, arms up as a way to placate the archer, and frowned.

“Easy there, darlin’,” McCree took his shaking hands, and began to absently rub his thumbs over the back of Hanzo’s hands,”You alright?” Hanzo knew he should distance himself from the cowboy, physically and metaphorically, but he didn't have the strength or heart to pull his hands from McCree’s steady and gentle grip. 

“My apologizes you had to see that. It will not happen again.” Hanzo hoped he sounded convincing, but from the look on the cowboy’s face told him he wasn't doing a very good job. He instead focused on McCree’s warm hands which grounded him, reassuring Hanzo that he wasn’t in Hanamura, but at Gibraltar. The archer was trying to get over his OCD but being alone and on the run for 10 years did little to improve his mental state. 

“That’s right, deep breaths,” McCree’s voice reminded him of honey, late night campfires, and the desert sun; Hanzomight have daydreamed about that voice more times then he would like to admit, “You’re okay, got nothin’ to worry about.” He wasn’t aware he zoned out, so when Hanzo came to, he realized the gunslinger had pulled him into a hug, gently rubbing slow circles on his back. 

Hanzo paused, unsure of how to respond to the close contact with the cowboy, puzzled on why McCree didn't hate him. He had been part of Blackwatch, saw the extent of Genji’s injuries, and had considered Genji to be his best friend. It was only fair that the gunslinger would have some misgivings about Hanzo, so he was concerned why McCree had been so willing to hang out with him at a given moment. The gunslinger often sat next to him at the table, practiced with him in the practice range, and more recently, late night drinking sessions on the roof. Hanzo had secretly enjoyed those drinking sessions and always looked forward to them. 

At the beginning, Hanzo had been prepared for the inevitable disappointment, for the cowboy to push him away, to loathe him, to want revenge, like so many others had in the past. Hanzo stopped believing his story would have a happy ending long ago, he gave it up when he murdered Genji. He didn’t expect McCree to want to be friends with someone who committed fratricide. Yet, here Hanzo was, being hugged by McCree.

Hanzo tested the waters and nervously nuzzled McCree’s neck, becoming sleepy as the gunslinger ran his fingers through Hanzo’s hair, while murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. He doesn’t remember much about the rest of the night so when he awakes to the sight of an unfamiliar bedroom, Hanzo is in for a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed at 5;30am while waiting for a pdf to save
> 
> Also guess who's back and actually posted another chapter. yeah surprisingly me
> 
> expect the chapter to be out like december or something like that


End file.
